pain
by woodstockfestival
Summary: "It's like this cruel punishment that the universe is using to tell you something. But what the hell is it trying to tell you? What the hell would you need to know that would make you lose something so big?" Future Fic, AU, Quick, one-shot.


Hello! How are you guys on this fine summer day? Well I started writing this last night and finished this morning-the proof reading being my least favorite part. My hands feel like hurting jello (if that makes sense?)! I have to say it was inspired by the people I baby sit for. A very sad story. I usually don't right this sad of stuff and I hope I didn't fail as atrociously as I had the potential to.

I would like to thank my dog for being there…nah, I'm just kidding. Even though you are a very cool cat Lizard (her name is Lizzy-i call he lizard).

I am Ryan Murphy so I do in fact own Glee. (please read the A/N at the end if you make it to the end.)

* * *

><p>The doctors give you medication for the pain. You would laugh at the irony if you weren't in so much pain already.<p>

Your heart breaks with every push you take. And you find your self, wishing for the first time that he'd decide to stay in there longer, so you would have more time with him. But the medication they gave you sped up the process and now your stomach is sinking with guilt and agony.

They said it shouldn't hurt so much. The delivery, that is, because you've never felt so much pain in your life.

Truth is your body is throbbing. Every damn inch. Your heart, your head, your legs. Everything is shaking with remorse and loss.

Maybe the pain you are feeling is abstract, because really you physically don't hurt, but you do all the same. It's like this cruel punishment that the universe is using to tell you something. But what the hell is it trying to tell you? What the fuck would you need to know that would make you lose something so big?

For the first time you notice you are crying and you remember why. The repercussions of emotions are now clicking and you are crying harder.

You curse god, you curse water, you curse Puck, you curse everything and anything that would be the reason for the universe playing dirty tricks on you. You scream for mercy. You scream for your baby. Anything that would rewind the clock and make things normal again.

But fuck, you are here squirming on this bed trying to push out what seems to be the last of your happiness.

You look over and see the person that is attached to the thing in your hand, that you are gripping so hard. He is crying too. Maybe not a sobbing mess like you, but his eyes are definitely glazed over.

He is saying encouraging words to you, full of sorrow and discourage, only doing it because he is Puck and feels he needs to. Your heart starts to break even more for him and you push harder because your doctor told you to and you cry harder.

You shake your head at the damn fucking irony.

Here you want something so bad. You don't regret it. Yet you lost it.

Last time you were here, screaming out and crying tears of physical pain, you didn't want it. Gave it away.

Maybe that's why you are here. You are being punished for what was given to you nine years ago, that you selfishly gave away.

You squeeze Puck's hand because you start to feel actual pain down below, now conquering every part of the body.

You choke on your sobs, feeling your face damp and your throat sore. Head clogged with a regret of being careless in the shower.

_It is your fault._

Letting out one more shriek, you feel some pressure release. But you feel worse. You can't stop crying as you fall back against the pillows behind you, feeling Puck's arm catch you.

You vaguely remember a cry last time. At the time, you knew it was going to be one of the few times you heard it, it still sounded beautiful though.

The doctor, with a frown pressed on their lips, hand you this blue bundle.

At first you hesitate, but then you grab it from her arms, hope that maybe they were wrong and you will hear a cry, a breath, something.

But when you look in the blanket you see him. Your son that was in you for eight months. You'd feel him kicking you when you finally got to sit down, just wanting you to be active so he could sleep. Would make Puck go out at two in the morning to get coffee ice cream and cherries. It was like you two verse Puck, but you three against the world.

You let out a silent, violent sob-it's then you realize you stopped crying for a moment-when you see you're sons skin slightly tinted blue. His eyes pressed tight as you cradle him in your arms. This isn't right. He never sleeps when you are lying down.

The doctor and nurses leave the room to give you and Puck time alone with your son before they have to take him. You see a tear fall onto his cheek and you aren't sure if it is yours or Puck's. When you wipe the tear off, you feel how soft his skin is yet how lifeless it is.

You don't want to, but you hand your baby over to Puck. Your already shattered heart, falls to nothing when you see your dead son being held by his father, who doesn't look that much more alive.

Your head falls against Puck's shoulder and you watch your son lay lifelessly in Puck's arms. And for a few moments you allow your self to think he is sleeping and the tears you are shedding are tears of joy before reality completely settles in and your son is taken away forever.

xxx

When you guys get home you feel like some bad movie. The seemingly perfect couple, who is now the pitied couple with the dead baby. You shudder at the idea of all the food and 'sorrys' you'll get and pull your sweater closer to your body.

You catch a glimpse of your self when Puck puts the bag down and you turn, catching a mirror. Your face is still tear stained, looking like you aged ten years and like you just got off a roller coaster. But didn't you?

Puck looks the same, though he stopped crying long before you did (you never really stopped). You feel bad that he thinks he needs to be the one to take care of the both of you. You'd say something to him, tell him it's okay; you can take care of your self. But you don't believe it your self. Anyways what do you say to someone who just lost their child?

You are both at a loss of what to do. You guys were suppose to be going to a doctors appointment later in the afternoon because your son was still suppose to be inside you. Pulling you sweater against you again, you hope to not cry. You're going to need to learn to stop eventually.

"Ah d-do you want something to eat," You hear Puck's broken voice ask.

"No," You say because you're not hungry. A big change from a few days ago when you were scarfing down big macs at the drive thru. A thought occurs that maybe he is hungry and that guilt thing comes back, "But if you're hungry…"

"No, I'm not hungry…either." You nod your head and for the first time in a long time you don't feel like the happy married couple you guys have been.

You break down. You feel all these feelings coming up through your throat and from behind your eyes, causing you to collide into Puck's shoulder. His arms wrap around you and you feel so small. You feel you don't deserve him so you wrap your arms around him too. Hope that maybe he feels safe in your arms like you do in his.

"I-I'm so-o so-sorry," You choke out against his damp shirt.

He runs a hand through your hair and shushes you. You guys fall against the couch, wrapped in each others arms, your sobs and wind being the only sounds made besides the, "I don't blame you," he says quietly into your ear, but you're not sure if you believe it.

xxx

You wake up in the middle of the night. You don't remember how you got there, all you remember is you were once in Puck's arms but now he is on the other side of the bed. You can't help but wonder if her resents you and you take a deep breath to prevent that thought from slinging up a new batch of tears.

Something possesses you to get out of bed. When your feet hit the cold hard wood you shiver and walk over to grab your bathrobe and slippers. With no set destination in mind you walk down the hall and stop at the window, opening the curtain all the.

You'd usually laugh at your crazy neighbors across the street that put their Christmas decorations out a month early and never shut the lights off. Instead you shake your head at the waist of energy.

With out thinking you turn right and open the door you come to face with. Switching the light on you see the cliché blue walls with a sheep border around the top. Puck _just_ painted it. You remember standing on the outside of the door watching him stroke the last few layers on, turning to you with a proud smile. He then told you to back away because of the paint fumes, weren't good for you or the baby. You obliged, with a laugh and a roll of the eyes.

Picking up a stuffed cow, you want to laugh at the memory of Puck asking how his room was turning into such a farm. You didn't mean it to; you just fell in love with a lot of farm-like stuffed animals. You run your finger over the cow's nose and feel a tear run down your cheek and quickly wipe it away.

You throw the animal on the ground and walk over to the crib, running your hands lightly over the quilt Rachel made. You envy Rachel and the life growing inside of her. Feeling your jaw tighten you push the thought to the back of your head and toss the quilt into the crib, quickly turning away.

Your eyes meet with a framed picture and right then you're done. Your face is now soaked in tears as you pick it up. You wish you could go back to that day. Your first sonogram. And your eyes dart left to where the picture was resting to another picture of you and Puck the day you found out it was a boy. He was so happy, but didn't skip a beat in assuring you he'd be happy with anything.

You put the frame down hard before you can throw it against the wall, suddenly feeling the urge to hit someone. You pace hard and fast back and forth and settle on kicking the damn glider rocker. It's heavy though and doesn't go far, just leaves you with a throbbing foot. You kick it again though and fall against the wall behind you. Kicking it with even more power with the other foot, your feet decide they had enough and you sink against the wall.

The pain you feel in your feet is almost like a relief. Keeps you from thinking about your baby boy that is now in a funeral home. It only lasts so long though because you decided to punch the floor. You do it again and again and again until you resolute that self-destruction will only go so far.

You hope Puck feels the same way. When you guys gave away your daughter he turned to alcohol and drugs and juvie. Then, though, you guys were on your own, refused to lean on each other. Or maybe it was just you that refused. And you cry even more at that thought. You need Puck. You need your baby boy. For the first time in a long time you feel you need your daughter.

You hear footsteps slowly walking down the hall and soon see Puck standing outside the door. "Quinn," His voice sleepy and worn, just as he looks, despite the pain and sadness.

You look up and his face falls like he just realized what you were doing and he walks over to you. "Come to bed."

You shake your head and sniffle. "I'm so sorry." You say again. Probably for the hundredth time since the accident.

"I don't-I don't blame you." He tells you and reaches his hands out but you don't grab them.

"If I was more careful-"

"Quinn, I can't-I don't feel like fighting. Just please come to bed." He pleads with you and you shake your head again.

"I'm so sorry." It's like you can't keep saying it because you can't accept it.

Puck sighs. "I know."

You guys' stay in silence for a bit, drowning in the non-memories of your son, in the room he was suppose to sleep peacefully and happily in.

"Please…just come to be. For me." You nod your head because you'd do anything for him and you owe him.

He notices you don't move the same time you feel the achiness in your feet. "I-I can't…" You point to your feet, hope you don't have to explain.

He nods and kneels down and picks you up not as easily as he usually does because he is weaker than usual. The both of you are.

You cry into his neck again and get the unsettling unfamiliar feeling of it.

Puck places you on your side of the bed and starts to walk to his side. You aren't ready to let go of him though, so you grab his hand, let out another sob and slide over towards his side pulling him in to the bed. You guys stay embraced in each others arms as you drift to sleep and you swear you feel a few tears of your shoulder before sleep takes over.

xxx

The first person to stop by is Kurt.

You and Puck are sitting on the couch just…sitting, when you hear a knock at the door.

You hope the person will go away because you feel bitter, you're mouth tastes bitter and you just want to sit. You're not in the mood to hear 'I am so sorry for your loss' and 'if there is anything I can do'.

But Puck gets the door anyways and you stay sitting, staring strait ahead.

"Hi," You hear a soft, timid voice say. Puck doesn't say anything. You just hear the door closing and foot steps walking closer and closer to you.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Kurt awkwardly hug Puck and them nodding at each other. You stay looking strait ahead, pulling your sweater tight to your body.

"I'll be right back." Puck tells you, leaning close to your head and patting your shoulder, you nod and then feel the sofa shift weight as Kurt is now sitting to your right.

He puts a hand on your shoulder, but you don't shrug it off like you thought you would. "Quinn, I'm-I'm-"

"Sorry?" You snap with a raised eyebrow, now shrugging his hand off. "Yeah, everyone is."

You don't know why you suddenly feel spiteful. Maybe because he is the first person you associated with outside of the hospital besides Puck.

"Well…I don't know what to say." Kurt says looking down and you are relieved he says it because you don't know what to say either.

You feel tears well up in your eyes. "Say nothing."

"What?"

"Just," you take in a deep breath, "say nothing."

Kurt nods again and puts his hand on your shoulder again. When you really start crying again he hesitantly pulls you in. You don't fight it because you don't have the energy.

Your arms fall and touch your now empty stomach and you cry harder. You remember the fluttering you'd feel in there pretty much all the time since your second trimester. Puck would always have his hand on your stomach, when he could, hoping to feel some movement. Often fell asleep with his hand flat on your stomach.

Being in Kurt's arms you remember the friendly competition he and Finn had to be the godfather. Finn ultimately winning the battle because Kurt was going to be Finn and Rachel's…baby's godfather.

You feel a bigger hand on your back that isn't Kurt's and you're thankful for it because it pulls you from your other thoughts.

You realize that it is Puck who is rubbing soothing circles on your back and you soon find your way from Kurt's neck to Puck's.

You hear Kurt sigh and get up, resting a hand on you and Pucks shoulders. "I'm gonna head out. You guys know you can call if you need anything and expect us to be checking in on you guys now and then." You assume when he says 'us' he means your group of friends. And you hops it's not a lot because you really just want to be alone.

"Also," He says short of the door when you let go of Puck's body and just settle on holding his hand. "Eat one of the lasagnas I brought over. They should be able to stay frozen for a while. But not _too_ long because you guys need to eat." Kurt gives you guys a pitied smile and you can see pain in his eyes too.

xxx

The funeral is nothing more than a priest, a few friends and family, and a tense air of people not knowing what to feel because they are at a funeral for a baby they never knew.

Puck's mom and sister, your mom (your sister couldn't make it in time), Kurt, Mercedes, Santana, Britney, Artie, Tina, Sam and Finn showed up. You notice Rachel not being there as Finn was just lingering in the back and said 'Rachel wasn't feeling well', you guys coming to the silent agreement that you know why she didn't come. You are grateful too. If the roles were reversed, you'd never show up to a baby's funeral pregnant.

The priest says 'he was taken too early' and that 'he is now with the angles' or something. You don't pay attention; just hold Puck's hand and try to not let the guilt take over your whole being.

The casket is so tiny. No casket should be that small, yet your son is lying in there. _Dead_.

You cover your mouth, your face scrunching against a sob and you kneel down to say your good byes. You don't know what to say in front of all these people. You already said you 'proper' good-bye in the hospital, but you are expected to again.

"I never got to know you," You start, quietly. "But I love you as much as I ever could. You will always be in my heart, baby."

Puck kneels beside you and rubs your back before putting his own hands on the coffin and saying his last words to him. "I-I," He shakes his head and takes a deep breath and you take your turn rubbing your hand on his back. "Just know that I love you. And you will be the lady-killer I knew you'd be down here, up there."

You guys stand up together, ignoring everyone's looks as the priest says his last words and the ceremony ends.

The mob of black heads back towards the parking lot, you and Puck stay to the back so you don't have to say any more to the people who showed up. You appreciate them coming but they already said their sorrys and regrets and nothing else needs to be done. All you want to do is go home and sleep, unless someone invents a time machine so she could go back a week.

You look back and see a group of workers starting to put the tiny casket with your son in the ground. And for the first time the gravity of the situation really invades you.

Your son won't be at home waiting for you because that was your son's funeral.

xxx

They said you were lucky. With the fall you took anything could have happened to you.

You laugh on the inside. You wish you fell into the coma after.

xxx

You and Puck finally eat something other than a banana and Cheetos. You stay away from everything you craved during your pregnancy, which happens to be invading your kitchen.

You guys silently pick at Kurt's lasagna. The dish you both loved once now taste like nothing but a different mush of textures. You let it burn the insides of your mouth as soon as it comes out of the oven, don't even bother sipping your water to cool it down.

Puck watches you from a across the table and quickly snaps his head down when your eyes meet. So you resort to staring at him, he is also eating small, staggered bites. He looks up and up look down, it becomes routine through out dinner, until you guys decided you wont eat more than what you already have.

While you guys do the dishes, the sadness you already are feeling is now added by the fact you and Puck are just going through the motions of the day, no effort just doing. You guys use to laugh and joke during dinner and splash each other with water doing the dishes. Now permanent frowns cast upon your face and it reminds you all the more of what you lost.

When you guys finish with the dishes you are at a loss of what to do. Your days are spent with screening phone calls but picking up every fifth one and sitting, until you have to go back to work again. You guys tried watching TV, but there are too many baby commercials, ones that once made you sad then excited and now sad again.

"I think I'm going to bed." You tell Puck hoping he doesn't protest.

"Ok," He nods. "I will probably be in soon too."

You walk into your bedroom and don't even bother changing. You are still wearing that same lose sweater and sweat pants and there is no need to get more comfortable. You just sink into bed and clutch your pillow because it is the closest thing to Puck you got. Whenever Puck was working and wasn't in bed with you, you would hold your stomach as if protecting him.

You start to cry and don't try to stop it, 'cause what's the point?

Just then you hear opening and shutting and clinking coming from the kitchen. You try to ignore it but you can't so you get out of bed. Walking down the hall and turning the corner you find Puck sitting at the kitchen island with a glass in one hand and scotch in the other. He takes a sip of the bottle before pouring it into the glass and you feel your throat hitch.

You quickly turn and hide behind the wall and try to forget what you just saw. It could be a mistake, just a cruel figment of your imagination. You crane your neck to see Puck taking another sip and then another until the glass is empty and he refills it.

You lean your head against the wall and it hits harder than you meant to and makes a bang type noise. Puck doesn't say anything and you pretend he doesn't hear but you know he does because the man can hear anything.

You walk back to bed and silently cry, wiping the tears from your eyes every five seconds. It's not like Puck is a recovering alcoholic. He drinks. You drank with him before you got pregnant. But it's that he is hiding it from you that scares you. Does he not trust you like you do him? You pray he doesn't go over the edge like last time and hope you can sleep.

When you are just about to fall asleep you feel him get into bed. He goes to wrap his arms around you but you shrug him off. He doesn't fight it, just sleeps on his side of the bed. And for the first time in years you two fall asleep so far away from each other on the same bed.

It's not that you are mad at him; you think you don't deserve him.

xxx

You wake up the next morning and cry instantly. It's been a week. A week since you lost your son. And that thought alone sends you on this trip of tears and emotions and you can't see strait. Can't think. Can't breathe.

You feel Puck hug you and you turn in his body to hug him back. He lost his son a week ago too.

xxx

A package comes to your house a few days later. Puck brings a giant box and you see it is the changing table you had to return because it was defective.

"Give it to Finn and Rachel." You say with out time to think.

"What?" Puck asks shocked, almost hurt.

"It's white. I'm pretty sure it will go with whatever theme Rachel is designing. Just give it to them. At least it will take it off our hands." You say the last part silent and you look at the box and feel the tears already welling up.

"I'll drive it over now." Puck declares, starting to pick it up.

You shake your head. "You don't have to."

"You're right we need it out of here." He tells you propping the door open and picking the box up. "Plus I need the air."

The last comment stings; are you suffocating him?

xxx

Two and a half weeks go by and you have to go back to work.

You don't _have_ to but you feel you _need _to.

Puck goes back too. They give him nothing to do but paper work. He is a fire fighter-not made to do paper work. But he says they are worried he'll do something stupid. He says it coldly, resentfully, like he is blaming you for his life being ruined in every aspect.

Work isn't the same for you either. You show up to find a substitute playing with your students.

You ask your boss about it and they tell you they can't risk you running out. Wouldn't be good for five and six year olds. They say it kindly and sympathetically and offer you more time off.

You snap at them. Or maybe it is more of a yell. "I lost my baby! Not my mind!" You storm out of the school and never looked back.

When Puck gets home you look up from your glass of water you fetched, hoping to calm you down. "You're home early." You tell him.

"Nothing for me to do." You nod understandingly and stare strait ahead at the blank TV that hasn't been on in about three weeks. "How was ah-work for you?" He asks, sitting in the chair diagonal from you and you ignore the fact he isn't next to you.

You shrug and feel the tears come again. "Wasn't ready." You say through a silent sob.

"I don't think either of us are." And something about that statement comforts you in the weirdest, twisted way.

xxx

Everyone is putting Christmas decorations up in your neighborhood and town.

You and Puck shut the blinds and ignore the Christmas due date you were supposed to have.

xxx

Santana stops by one day, carrying a slow cooker. She doesn't knock just invites her self in.

Her face falls when she sees you and Puck sitting on the couch again. "Come on guys, have you even been out side this house?"

You guys both open your mouth before she stops you. "Besides work."

Silence fills the room as she takes off her jacket, hat and gloves. She walks into the kitchen and you hear her playing around with stuff in there before she comes back out. She grabs a kitchen chair, puts down in front of you guys and plops down in it.

Leaning forward she tells the two of you, "You need to talk."

Neither of you speak so you bite the bullet, "Why?"

"It's been three and a half weeks. You guys ignore us and it doesn't look like you do anything."

"It's not that long." Pucks says is a whisper, like he had to force it out.

"You-you guys need to move on. Get better. I'm not saying it is easy but-"

"God damn right it's not easy!" Puck snaps making both you and Santana jump.

He gets up off the couch and walks towards the kitchen. "Try losing two kids." He holds up two fingers and turns into the kitchen, coming back out a second later with a bottle of scotch.

Santana was never one to lie, used the truth to help no matter how much it hurt to hear or say. "Really Puck? Just gonna drink your feelings away."

Puck takes a sip and lets out a bitter laugh. "Coming from the girl who fell asleep in a bar bathroom when Britney broke up with her."

"Quinn needs Puck. Not drunk Puck."

"Fuck you-"

"Just get out," You whisper to Santana, you don't look at her eyes because you know hurt is probably etched through out them.

"What?" But all the hurt is in her voice. "I'm-I'm just trying to-"

"I know, just get out." You hate seeing Puck hurt and fight. Santana provokes and that is the last thing he needs to be calm.

"You heard her, get the fuck out." Sanatan stands up and puts her coat, hat and gloves on. You soon regret making her leave because maybe Puck needs to get his anger out some way and he refuses to do it with you.

"I made you guys soup, it's just chicken noodle so it wont be too heavy. Please eat, you guys look like ghosts." With that she leaves.

You feel like a ghost.

xxx

"I understand if you blame me." You tell Puck over Santana's soup the next day.

"I already told you I don't."

"I blame my self-"

"Well I don't. So please just stop." He looks into his soup and twirls his spoon around before taking a bite.

It's then you realize he blames you a little but just hasn't coped with the idea yet. "I hate when you lie to me." You stand up and walk over to the sink and don't do the dishes with him for the first time in a long time.

xxx

The phone rings later that night.

You are in your bedroom doing laundry and Puck is watching Sports Center. He finally decided to put the TV on and you didn't argue. You want to hold on to your marriage.

You pick it up after a few rings and brace your self for who ever is checking in. "Hey Quinn." You hear Arties concerned voice on the other line.

"Hi." You say back.

"I was just wondering if you and Puck were still coming to my Christmas party. I understand if you can't but-"

"We'll try to make it but no promises."

You hear silence on the other end before a sigh. "Please come. It'll be good for you." And then you hear the dial tone and walk out to the living room.

"Who was that?" Puck asks, beer dangling by his mouth.

"Artie, wants us to go to his party." You tell him and sit on the other end of the couch, bringing your knees up to your chin.

"You wanna go?" You shrug and he tells you, "You can say no."

"I don't want to go." You feel your body start to shake with sobs again and Puck pulls you in with one arm. "I'm so sorry." You whisper.

"I know."

xxx

"So you aren't going?" Mercedes asks from the other end of the phone. "I'm going to be leaving town soon."

"I know but I just _can't_ go. Not yet at least."

"Are you going any where for Christmas?"

"No." You shake your head and cry at the idea.

You hear Mercedes gasp and is quick to apologize. "Quinn…I'm-I'm"

"I know." You say and hang up quickly.

xxx

"_We are _not_ naming him Cliff."_

"_Why not?" Pick whined from his edition of Baby Names A-Z._

"_It reminds me of a power bar. I still think we should go with Grayson." You cooed at the name showing him it. _

"_You want to name our kid some depressing color?" _

"_No it means-" Quinn stopped short when she read the meaning. "It is a nice name."_

'_No, no what does it mean?"_

"_It doesn't matter."_

"_A few minutes ago you said it did." Puck quickly flipped through the book and smirked reading a few lines. "Gray-haired man?"_

"_Shut up."_

_Puck just smirked and leaned down to your swelled belly, whispering, "Don't worry, I'll make sure you aren't name gray-haired man."_

You throw the book across the room and it hits the lamp causing it to fall over.

You wish you guys could have settled on a name so his tombstone didn't read 'Baby boy Puckerman'.

xxx

It's Christmas day and you have your first drink in nine months. Puck holds your hand as you feel the scotch burning your throat. It feels good, though, because tears of burn is mixed in with the tears of sorrow and grief.

You squeeze Puck's hand and neither bring up that it's been a month.

_You are still stuffed from Thanksgiving two days ago, let alone you just got back from having left over's at Finn and Rachel's. _

_You smile at the memory of you and Rachel laughing over if her baby was a girl, your son and Rachel's baby would get married one day. Being served by your husbands and gossiping with Kurt as you guys dig into your turkey sandwich. _

_You laugh when you remember Santana yelling at Finn in Spanish because he knocked her plate over or something, Puck playfully intervening with a fry pan._

"_Ouch, stop kicking." You rub soothing circles over your stomach as you take off your bathrobe and start the shower. Clearly the gravy and sparkling cider made him crazy because he wouldn't stop kicking the past few days._

_You step into the shower and laugh again as the water falls into you hair and down your body as your baby kicks up a rampage. He rarely ever stops moving, you wonder when he sleeps. Maybe he will be tired when he comes out and will sleep a lot then._

_The soap slips out of your hand but as you step to grab it you lose your footing. You've been lucky through out your pregnancy and had some good balance, but with the water and the baby kicking you can't catch your step and fall. Your back right up against the back of the shower as your bumps hits the side. It was quick and fast but it still feels like you are going through slow motion as your body hit side to side. _

_You can't get up because your arm twisted somewhere in the fall and you just manage to turn the water off. _

_You don't feel kicking any more and despite the pain you feel you start crying because you are scared._

"_Puck." You manage to get out through sobs but couldn't actually scream it. He must have heard the fall though as he is there quickly after it. _

"_What-what happened?" He frantically asked pulling over the shower curtain. _

"_I-I fell." You shake your head and try to get up but fall back again, feeling more pain against your tailbone. "He's not kicking." _

_Puck grabs a towel from the hook outside of the shower and wraps you in it before picking you up. "Everything is going to be OK." He tells you as he walks out of the bathroom._

"_I'm so sorry." You pray that it was just a stupid fall and things will be okay._

_But you can't help but feel guilty and pray he will start kicking again._

You were not so lucky as you remember his last kick. There were a lot of them and it was like the finale of the fireworks. Everything goes dark after fireworks end.

xxx

When you wake up the next morning you hear crying. Well it's not crying, more of a weep, a whimper.

You get out of bed and put on your bathrobe. The air is cooler than usual and you realize it snowed last night. You smile at the thought of snow and walk down the hall to the source of the cries. But when you open the door the cries stop, so you shut it. They start up once again and you stare ahead confused.

Finally, you just open the door and switch on the light. There is nothing in the room except for a nursery for a baby that will never get to be in it.

You shut the door quickly and take a deep breath. For a change you don't cry right away. Then you remember what day it is and you don't stop until you fall asleep.

It's been a month.

Fuck you Universe.

xxx

Something suddenly hits you that you need to move on. Find some way to get out of the funk you are drowning in and get on.

This thought scares you, though, and you hate the idea of it so you weep some more before you decide what to do.

The thing is you don't know what to do.

Are you even supposed to move on?

xxx

When you come home one day you realize that your marriage is really falling apart.

You come in the front door holding groceries; you are actually wearing normal clothes, with the intent to make Puck a New Years Eve dinner.

You try to be happy. Because in order to move on you have to be happy, right?

"Puck?" You call out and he doesn't answer. You drop the groceries in the kitchen and walk down the hall. You hear noise coming from the baby's room and turn to see the door half open with the light on. When you push it open you are met with paint fumes and Puck angrily painting the walls white.

"What are you doing?" You ask in your place at the door.

He doesn't answer, just keeps painting.

"What the hell are you doing?" You ask again, trying to keep your cool, stepping forward.

"I'm painting." He dips the roller in the paint tray before attacking another part of the wall.

"I can see that, but why?"

"We can't just pretend that he is going to be coming home, Quinn." You feel like you just got smacked by a two by four. You knew that was true but hearing it from someone else is like losing him all over again.

"So you're just gonna erase all of his memories?" You shout.

"What memories, Quinn? Huh? He died before he was born, he has no memories." You could punch him, square in the face. Instead you flare you nostrils, take a deep breath and go into the closet. Puck is back to painting when you step out with a bag that you haven't opened since you took it home.

"He has no memories, Puck?" You pull out a frame and hold it up to Puck. "_This_ is our son!"

Puck turns around and is met with the picture and you can see his face change, his demeanor softens before he turns back around and continues his project. "I know that is our son. I held his dead corpse."

You look at the picture of your son resting in you and Puck's arms. The hospital took other pictures for you, saying most families who don't end up regretting it. They also gave you hand and foot prints of your son, trying to convince you you'll treasure it some day.

You wipe away a tear you feel has fallen. "I am going to make dinner."

"I'm not hungry." He doesn't even look back, just concentrating on the messy strokes he is applying to the wall.

"Come on we have to move on-"

"And you just told _me_ that I am forgetting his memory." He ends with a sarcastic laugh and drops the roller.

"Moving on is not forgetting, Puck. Y-you know that." You walk closer to him, hoping he will listen.

"No, I don't think I do." He shakes his head and avoids your gaze.

"I feel like I'm losing you." You whisper through tears.

"I'm not planning on going anywhere." He pushes past you and heads for the door, leaving you feeling like a burden.

xxx

When Puck is at work you finish painting. You cry the whole time, but it's something.

xxx

Puck starts sleeping on the couch. Tells you it's because he is getting home late or leaving early and doesn't want to wake you.

You get depressed at the idea of becoming _that_ married couple. Have been married for only two years and now don't sleep together. You guys use to be so open and honest and _happy_.

When something bad happens you aren't suppose to be happy but try to get back to that place. He seems to not want that.

xxx

When you go back to work you tell your boss you are fine. When they ask if you are going to therapy you say yes. When they ask if you can handle it you say yes.

Two lies and one to be determined.

xxx

Puck doesn't look at you the same, like you take his breath away. All you see in his eyes and step is anger and resentment.

He doesn't even look you in the eyes. Just takes the pasta or chicken or casserole you made and grumbles a thank you before eating it and disappearing into the basement.

You don't know what he is doing down there, though, because it is unfinished. You leave it alone because this may be his grieving period. Maybe it finally just hit him. You don't know and try not guessing as he goes down into the basement every night for the past week.

You guys just bought the house about five months ago, the house you were in wasn't big enough for a baby.

You take the plate you are washing and throw is across the room and hear it shatter against the wall.

You just want your husband back. You want your children.

As you clean the pieces up you hope Puck will come up and help as he usually would. He doesn't and you are stuck cleaning up the pieces to your life alone now.

xxx

It's been nine days since you felt your husband's arms around your body.

Forty-three days since you held your son in your arms.

You've never felt so lonely.

xxx

"Tell me what you want?" You say one day at dinner. Puck look up surprised, you guys really only hold small talk for a few minutes a day.

"Huh?"

"Tell me what you need me to do."

"I don't get what you are…" He says slowly and you roll your eyes.

"You did what I needed. What do you need from me? I can't stand this feeling."

"What feeling?" He asks standing up, bringing his plate to the sink.

"That you hate me. I feel you slipping away. I can't lose you, okay? I just can't-"

"You're not going to lose me." He snaps turning around.

"Then why are you acting this way? You are suddenly absent all the time."

"Because I don't know how to act, okay? It is easy being there for you and holding you when you cry but I don't know how to feel. But there is only so much I can take."

"Of me?" Your voice cracks on the words as you choke on a sob.

"No, Quinn, no." He shakes his head and leans against the counter. "I love you."

"Then why don't you let me help you?"

"Because I can't look at you anymore!" He really snaps this time and you look up, shocked.

"Why?"

"You look just like him. I see your eyes and I see our kids. And I can't take the feeling."

"We can work through this." You grab his arm and plead with his eyes. "We can get through anything."

He shakes his head and looks down, whispering, "I'm not ready to yet." He walks out of the kitchen and grabs his keys and coat. "I'm gonna sleep at the station. I have a double shift."

You watch him walk out and sink down to the floor once the door slams. And you think for the first time maybe you will lose your husband.

xxx

"So he just left?"

"Yup." You say setting your margarita down. It doesn't taste as good as the last time you had one, but nothing tastes as good anymore.

"And when is he coming back?"

"He should tomorrow morning. That is if he comes back after work."

"He'll come back." Santana assures you, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"I use to tell my self that but I'm not so sure anymore." You finish off your drink and hold the glass out to Santana.

"He's Puck, Quinn." Santana starts, filling your glass. "He wont ever leave you. Unless you do something absolutely terrible to him." You open your mouth but she stops you. "It wasn't your fault. I see how you'd think that, but it's not."

"I just want my husband back." You say out loud for the first time and it's then you realize there is these things you crave so much you'd give you arm for, anything just to have them.

"You'll get him back." You take a long sip and let the alcohol course its way through your body and hope to mend your broken heart. You don't respond for the better part of a minute so Santana speaks up again. "You're a strong girl, Quinn. You will make it."

You nod your head but you're not sure you believe it.

xxx

Finn and Rachel's baby is born almost two weeks late.

You heard the news while at work and snuck away while the kids were sleeping to cry in the teachers' room. A fellow co-worker catches you and just gives you a sympathetic smile; you smile back and go back to the sleeping children.

You promised Kurt you would go visit them at the hospital, agreeing because it could help move on, make things a little better.

When you get home you are surprised to see Puck sitting on the couch, shaved and dressed in his nice jeans and clean shirt.

He did end up coming home after his double shift, drunk. The past few days you gave him his space and he brought home take out so he could eat in the basement.

"Hey." He says standing up.

You drop your bags and walk towards him. "Hi."

"I was thinking I'd go to the hospital with you."

You nod your head. "You sure?"

"No. But are you?"

"No." You say honestly and he smiles. It's a bit forced but you can tell he is trying and that's all you want in this very moment.

"And I was thinking we could go out to eat after…if you want."

You nod and smile back. It feels forced also but it feels nice. "Sure."

xxx

You guys hold hands walking down the maternity ward of the hospital. With each step your hands tighten and the more your stomach sinks and your heart aches.

You get to your destination and take a deep breath. Puck looks at you, giving this look of 'are you ready?' and you nod taking another breath before walking in.

Everyone's head snaps to you and Puck when you guys walk in, shocked. They then paste a smile on their face and greet you guys with warm hugs and friendly hellos.

"Do you want to hold her?" Rachel asks, motioning to the pink bundle in her arms.

"Sure." You nod and Finn hands the baby to you. Puck stands behind you and looks into the blanket. You hate jealousy, thinks it is a waist of energy, yet you can't help feel but, holding the baby in your arms. It just makes you yearn for your own.

"We were thinking that maybe you guys would want to be the godparents." Rachel says and Finn smiles from beside her.

"I thought that Kurt and Mercedes were." You look to the two that were on the other side of the room.

Mercedes shakes her head and tells you, "There'll be plenty more opportunity. You guys should be it."

"But why?" You ask, afraid of the answer.

The four look at each other, at a loss for what to say. "No." You say and put the baby in the basinet in front of the bed. "I will not be pitied like this because I am the girl who had the stillborn." You close your mouth shut and realize it is the first time you said 'stillborn'. Just as you thought you were coming to terms you shake your head and continue. "You guys are my friends and shouldn't treat me or us differently. We get enough of that what work. I wont do it. Puck do what ever you want."

You storm out of the room and then see Puck coming up next to you. "What was that?" Puck asks.

"Do you feel the world coming down around you?"

"What?"

"When he was being born I could have sworn the walls were crashing down. But in there the walls were up."

Silence takes over. But not complete silence because the hospital is in function, nurses and doctors charging down the hall.

"Come on." Puck says, wrapping an arm around you and leading you back down the hall. "We don't have to go out."

You realize that this whole time the world has been going on with out you and never crashed.

xxx

It's been two and a half months. You read somewhere that the hole in your heart can't be filled, ever, but you can go on. Have more kids.

You didn't even know your heart had a hole. Just thought it was a pile of broken pieces. But the idea of having another kid kills you. It always killed you.

You're young and have time but you don't want time you want your baby.

His face is always haunting your head. Or gracing-it makes you cry though so you use it in a bad context.

You also read someone say you can't move on and that scares you. You can try and not succeed.

The whole 'no self-destruction' must have slipped for a moment when you looked up stillbirth.

The horror of what you went through now more clear.

xxx

He never had a name. Never took a breath. He kicked up a storm, though.

For someone who didn't have much of an identity, he sure had more energy than living people you know.

xxx

"It takes more time." You say in bed one night to no one in particular. Puck is the only one there, so he rolls over and shrugs.

"But do you think it gets easier?" He looks like a little kid who needs to be re-assured of something good.

You reach over and cup his face. "It will." You look into his eyes and kiss him. It's chaste and non-passionate but it works. It puts you back in his arms.

Maybe it will be easier.

xxx

At the four-month mark spring is showing its first signs and your marriage is getting better.

It has been a fourth of a year and your life is repairing its self.

xxx

"…I will always wonder what you would have been like." You run your hand over the giant stone, smile, and wipe the tear away. "You haven't been forgotten and never will be."

You feel Puck's hand squeeze your shoulder. "Today is your mommy's birthday. Maybe you could send her something." You smile at him and he smiles back. "Anyways we gotta go meet some friends. We will be back though. And sorry this is our first time visiting you. It has been hard."

"We love you." You tell the grave and lay the flowers you bought before you came.

You stand up and feel your heart breaking as you walk away from him. But maybe it is the ache of your heart mending together finally. And suddenly the idea of moving on scares you, but you know you have to do it. For your baby boy.

And during the party your friends throw you, you find your self smiling during it. Any tears that fell were from laughter and joy.

Maybe he sent you the gift of acceptance. It doesn't make you miss him any less.

xxx

You often daydream about what it would be like if he didn't die. You let your self do it longer now, as you don't break down as much.

You find your self smiling after and you feel guilty.

When Puck asks what you are so happy about you shake your head and say you thought of something funny someone said a while ago that you haven't been able to laugh about in a while.

He may be gone but he is looking over you, you're sure of it.

xxx

"We can adopt." Puck tells you months later.

Your doctor tells you the chances of getting pregnant are slim for you guys after you got tested. They suggest a surrogate but you say no right away. You wont make someone go through what you went through.

You nod your head and throw the stick in the trash, ignoring the negative sign on it.

xxx

"Come outside!" You shout from the front door and run back out, feeling the hot sun gravitate across your skin. You can smell you neighbors' fresh cut lawn and laugh at your own lack of-Puck not finding the time to do it and not trusting you with a mower.

"Hold your horses women, I'm coming." He says as he runs down the steps.

"Took you a while." You groan and pour soap and water into the yellow bucket and soak the giant sponge in it.

"That's not what you were saying last night." He smirks and you are shocked to think you missed that smirk, shows he is getting better too.

It has been almost ten months and there isn't a day you don't cry but you find you can move on. Maybe not from your baby boy but with your life. You can move on with him.

"You always go there." You laugh at his innuendo and spray him a little with the hose. "Now get to work, this car wont clean its self."

"You're so bossy." He whines, picking up the sponge while you water down the car.

"But I love you." You say dropping the hose and picking up a rag.

"Who doesn't?" He boasts and grins again making you smile too.

"I hate you." You laugh and throw the rag at him.

"Love you too." You walk over to his side of the car to retrieve your rag and get met with his face. "What are you doing there, Fabray?" He asks stepping closer to your body.

"I believe you are the one who is in _my_ space. And it's Puckerman to you." You arch an eyebrow when he doesn't move and reach behind his back to grab the rag. "Well looks like I have everything I need now so…" You hold up the rag and walk away with your own smirk.

"You think you are so sly don't you?"

"That's my middle name." You start scrubbing the car; try not to show the disgust on your face at all the excess dirt coming off. "Along with smart, witty, graceful-"

"Sexy." Puck cuts in walking towards you.

"Sexy." You agree. "Glad you know your voacb."

"Well I'm married to the best."

"You are."

You feel Puck's arms wrap around your waist and then a cold, wet material on your back, leaving you with a soaked shirt.

"You suck!" You yell, whipping the rag at him but failing epically.

"Nice shot. Close but no cigar."

"You're gonna get it." You declare grabbing the bucket from behind you, holding it up.

Puck laughs and puts his hands up dramatically. "I surrender."

"Say it again."

"I surrender!"

"Again!"

"It's not like you would get on target anyways."

You launch the bucket forward, losing your grip and see the bucket soar threw the air. Puck luckily ducks in time.

"Did you just throw a bucket at me?" he asks shocked and you laugh nodding your head.

He picks you up and throws you over his shoulder.

"Let me go!"

"Never!" And the two of you fall into the grass together. And something about him saying 'never' settles well with you and something clicks that he will never leave you as long as you never let go of him either.

xxx

Sometimes you see pain in Puck's eyes. He could be smiling or just watching TV and you see a twitch of sadness.

You figure the loss of your son has the same affect on you too.

The hole in your heart will never be replaced and could only ever be replaced with your son. But since that can't happen you try to cure it with whatever you have left of him. Like the photos or handprints you have through out the house.

You think maybe he is an angel. Or is living another life. Possibly just living in heaven.

Wherever he is, though, he will always be your baby. He made you stronger, took a piece of you along the way, but gave you another reason to keep going.

His face will always be imprinted in your mind, his blue tinted face.

Baby boy Puckerman looked peaceful as soon as he came into this world, being nothing more than a corpse. And that's what you have now-peace.

* * *

><p>Wow. You made it. You win…well you win pride and honor and even more respect. I say pride, you say honor, and you in the corner say respect. One, two, three pride...<p>

Now I am no expert on medical knowledge by no means so please don't be too hard in that are. It is fiction and for Glee who had the wonderfully evil Sue Sylvester punch a guy in front of a bunch of teens and an auditorium full. Even though it was very funny kind of non-realistic.

And I got the whole falling in shower idea from Greys Anatomy. But only that. Haven't scene that episode in a long while though.

Thanks again for ready and check out my tumblr .com/.

Once again thank you and have a super cool in this sweltering (if you are in summer) hot weather day. Or a super hot in the cold weather day. Right?

Rock on!


End file.
